


True Colours

by Nic_H



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, F/M, essentially all the characters in DBH
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nic_H/pseuds/Nic_H
Summary: All his life Connor had been trained to be the perfect wizard. Pure of blood and exceptionally skilled. But when Elijah Kamski steps down as Minister for Magic, Connor's mentor and guardian Amanda Stern fills the vacant position and sends Connor to Hogwarts at the start of his fourth year to continue his teaching. Making unlikely friends along the way, Connor's eyes are opened to the lies and deceptions he had been told. With tensions high between pure-bloods and half-bloods and politics entering the halls of Hogwarts, Connor must pick a side. Will he stand with who he was, or who he is becoming?





	True Colours

For Cookie

…

Connor threaded his fingers through the beast’s ethereal mane, feeling every bump and ridge of its skeletal frame. Thestrals. He knew what they were, and he knew why he could see them. Amanda’s teaching left nothing uncovered. Many considered Thestrals dangerous, horrifying. Many people were stupid. As ashamed as he was to admit it, Connor thought _different_.

Amanda had _told_ him, imprinted on to his brain, that he did not _think_. He did not question. He did what he was told, he did what was ordered. Connor do this spell, Connor cast this charm, Connor recall this history. Every day his life was a continuous chain of orders and commands with no room for questions.

He knew his purpose. He knew why he was different then all the other kids on the train, and despite them being the same age that’s what they were: children. Friendships were not built on lofty notions of trust and dependency. A foolish description brought about by muggle influence. No, ‘friendships’ were contracts, where there was mutual benefit in services rendered.

It was an _experience_ for Connor, to see the other witches and wizards his age flock to their groups, some filling up a whole carriage, while others shared carriages between two or three circles. Connor himself had been left alone the entire train ride, his piercing stare enough to drive away any who opened his carriage. He did not mind the solitude. It allowed him a moment of reprieve from his daily routine.

As much as he respected Amanda’s teaching, it seemed _nice_ to be able to converse with others freely; as equals. Equals. A word Connor had been briefed on thoroughly by his private tutors. The Wizarding world was not a world of equality. At least, it was not meant to be. Pure blooded wizards were not meant to coexist with the Half-bloods.

 The word _Mudblood_ came unbidden in Connor’s mind.

Even the name pure blood had a level of shame. There would be no need to distinguish the two if wizards had stayed pure to their heritage. Their birthright. The muggle taint had already pervaded the most intimate of the Wizarding world.

“You see them too.”

The timid voice shocked Connor out of his inner thoughts, the Thestral mirroring his actions. Whirling around and wand at the ready, Connor pinpointed the source to the girl in front of him. _Obviously its her,_ everyone else was preoccupied with other inane things like small talk. Connor also felt a level of disappointment. Years of training and he couldn’t even detect a fourth year student sneaking up on him?

Quickly glancing over who interrupted him, Connor analysed her as he’d been taught to do. Short, with silvery white hair and mesmerising blue eyes. _Mesmerising?_   A yellow and black scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck, with a hand sewn badger proudly displayed on the end. Her robes threatened to engulf her entirely, yet somehow she still looked to hold herself with a quiet confidence Connor could respect.

Unsure how to respond, Connor nervously scratched the back of his head while he slid his wand back in to his sleeve (a harsh lesson from Amanda had taught him to have his wand easily accessible). Settling for a confident tone that belied his inner feelings, Connor responded politely. Mayhap she could be of benefit, should the need arise.

“Yes. Beautiful creatures that are tragically misunderstood.”

Taking that as her queue to continue the conversation she moved beside him, reaching out to the creature in a mirror of Connor’s previous actions. Rather than stand idly, the Thestral responded strongly to her movements. Never seeing or reading about this behaviour before, Connor was enthralled with the way the skeletal horse leaned in to her touch all the while making soft noises of what could be nothing else but contentment.

“I won’t ask how, I’m just glad I’m not the only one who sees these creatures for what they are and not how they are portrayed.”

Once again at loss for words Connor remained silent and instead opted to reach forward and stroke the back of the Thestral, feeling the smooth skin contrast with the bony ridges of its spine. The amiable silence continued for a while before the girl seemed to remember herself.

“Oh how rude of me. My name’s Kara by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”

Now Connor was no slouch at pleasantries and manners. Such etiquette was expected of purebloods, especially if one was the ward of the great Amanda Stern. But learning in the classroom was entirely different to executing it in the moment.

Before Connor could cobble together a response, an older bearded man seemed to melt from the shadows. How he did that while carrying a lantern, Connor could only suspect magic was involved. Not only the man’s appearance but also his demeanour set Connor’s skin on fire and brain on high alert.

“Come along children, in to the carriages. The headmaster’s a busy man.”

Glancing at Kara in silent apology, Connor made his way to the carriage at the back in the hopes to avoid passengers. It seems, contrary to popular belief, hope had won out. Spending the short trip to Hogwarts Castle by himself, Connor compartmentalised his thoughts. He hadn’t meant to brush Kara off so suddenly, but the apparent teacher had given him a window that he gladly jumped through. It was not that he disliked her (quite the opposite in fact) but rather he was out of his depth. Because in that short conversation with the Hufflepuff girl, Connor had _felt_ more in those few minutes than the rest of his life combined.

It wasn’t long before the carriage come to a stop and, rather quickly, Connor jumped out. Seeking a familiar face, he scanned the crowds for his only acquaintance (however short lived). He didn’t have to search long, as a flash of silver alerted him to her presence. It seemed she was looking for him too. Gathering courage, Connor started the conversation.

“Hi Kara. I’m uhh… apologies for brushing you off earlier. It was quite rude of me and-“

She cut him off with a melodic chuckle which was quickly covered with her hand.

“It’s okay… wait I don’t know your name. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you here before either. Are you new?”

Connor debated how to respond. Amanda had told him to make connections and possible allies, whilst still keeping a low profile. He supposed Kara was a good place to start.

“My name’s Connor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Kara nodded and put her hand forward. Connor returned the gesture and shook her hand and though it was a mostly muggle expression, Connor quite enjoyed the feel of her hand in his.

“It’s unorthodox but I was privately tutored at home, until unforeseen events lead my… _mother_ … to enrol me in Hogwarts.”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern with the way he paused at the word mother, and Connor felt a fleeting moment of anxiety before her expression returned to a smile. He much preferred the smile.

“Oh! Welcome to Hogwarts. You’ll love it here.”

For the entire walk to the Great Hall, Kara excitedly talked about Hogwarts and all it entailed. For all the reading Connor had done on the subject, it was both refreshing and enlightening to hear Kara’s perspective. From the different banquets that seemed to have been neglected in his teaching, to the almost fanatical support for their own house's Quidditch teams. The sport had always interested Connor, though he had yet to play or even watch the game. In Amanda’s words the game was nothing more than ‘uncouth barbarians looking for an excuse to be violent’. To Connor, though he had never voiced his thoughts, it seemed like a game that required both skill and wit.

The more Kara talked (though Connor interjected occasionally, he was content to hear Kara’s ramblings) the more it became apparent who she was. Rather, what she was. The apprehension held for purebloods, the second-hand robes, and the distaste for students who believed they were better than their peers based solely on their heritage. It left Connor in a state of confusion.

All his life he had been told the inferiority of half-bloods; the taint they possessed. How their very essence was a blight to the Wizarding world. How they lacked both the ability and resources to ever hold a candle to purebloods. Kara, it seemed, had shook his worldview. She seemed, normal. No obvious disfigurements (white hair aside, it suited her), no evidence of ‘dirty blood’ that he had been taught and had believed. And though Connor had yet to see her magical ability, she seemed like a hardworking, dedicated student.

“Oh how could I forget! The Sorting! You do know about the sorting ceremony right?”

Connor nodded his head. Yes, Amanda had taught him about the time-honoured tradition along with all she knew about the mystical hat, something even she had limited knowledge of (much to her chagrin). He also knew the sorting would be the biggest part of his year. Everything hinged on it. On getting sorted in to the house Amanda had strongly suggest he join. It wasn’t like he had a choice. The hat was said to be able to delve in to the depths of your mind and see your true self. Nonetheless Connor would do what was ordered. His guardian and mentor was not one to take failure lightly and Connor could attest to that.

All too soon the unlikely duo had reached the Great Hall, and it came time for Connor to bid farewell to his first ever ‘friend’, a friend that was not at all how Amanda had described friendships. Feeling particularly rebellious, Connor thought he much preferred the muggle definition of friendship.

“This is where we part ways. Thank you for the companionship.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Connor. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again. Who knows? Maybe you’ll join me in Hufflepuff,” Kara paused and raised a finger to her chin in an overly exaggerated thinking gesture, “come to think of it, you’re a total Ravenclaw.”

Connor chuckled, a semi-forced laughter to hide his deviant thoughts. He would not put it past Amanda to be constantly watching him. Being sorted in to Ravenclaw was what he _wanted_ but life had told Connor that what he wanted he seldom received. He got orders and demands and he fulfilled them, regardless of whether they aligned with his own wishes.

“Just don’t go joining any snakes you hear me. Well, not like you have a choice but still! You’d look horrible in green anyway.”

Kara’s words, though said in jest, still held an underlying dislike towards what she called ‘snakes’. He hadn’t enough data to confirm why. From what he had seen, they acted like every other house in this school: extremely favourable towards their own.

With one last good bye, the pair went their separate ways. While Kara followed her peers through the doors, Connor made his way to the teacher that was trying to control a rabble of first year students. Seeing him approach, the man offloaded the task of babysitting to a nearby teacher. A teacher who seemed far better equipped to deal with the frightened new students.

“Hello professor, my names Connor. I’ve just enrolled this year.”

The professor had a ragged expression that seemed permanently etched on his face, exemplified by his scraggly hair and unkempt beard. Either he cared not for appearance or the years hadn’t been kind to him, his body seemingly weighed down by a bone deep weariness. Still he kept doing his job, and Connor could respect that on some level. Even if he looked homeless. And in desperate need of both a shave and a shower.

“Ahh yes. Connor Stern. We’ve been briefed about you,” the professor looked mildly disgruntled, mumbling something so low Connor doubted anyone but he could hear, “fucking politics. No place for that shit-show in this school.”

Connor tilted his head in confusion but knew better than to ask what he meant by that. Some questions lead to anger, and Connor would rather not have an altercation (with a teacher no less) on his first day.

“Well it’s rare but not unheard of. I think we had a late enrolment a couple years back. Hell if I know, I don’t get paid enough to remember.”

The professor seemed highly unprofessional, though amiable enough.

“Do you say any other words but your name boy or are you made of plastic?”

Startled, Connor rushed to reply.

“Of course sir. I did not think you were waiting for a reply.”

His words seemed to spark something in the professor’s eyes, and Connor could not tell whether he had made a mistake or not.

“There’s some backbone! But don’t get too comfortable smart ass,” the man paused for a second, “you’ll find out soon enough anyway but I’m Professor Anderson, your ‘defence against the dark arts’ teacher.”

Connor nodded, which he seemed to be doing a lot of, in greeting.

“We can sit pretty here till all the first years are done, then I’ll let you walk you out to the sorting hat. Saves you looking like a fu-,” Professor Anderson stopped himself just in time, “a total moron in the middle of the hall with a bunch of children.”

If Connor was being honest with himself, he was quite enjoying the professor’s lack of etiquette. In a childhood of propriety and always thinking twice before speaking, it was strangely liberating to converse with someone who did neither. He just hoped he could teach well, because above all else Connor came here to _learn_.

“Thank you, professor. I would rather not be ridiculed from day one. I’ve heard teenagers can be… petty.”

The DADA teacher laughed, a full bellied laughter that rumbled around the room.

“Petty is putting it lightly. They’re assholes. And your one of them. Those kids you call ‘teenagers’, well they’re going to be your classmates. So get used to it.”

This man had to be on something, Connor concluded. How did he manage to land a job at the most prestigious magical school in the country? The two must have been talking for longer than Connor thought, because soon the constant pattern of silence and cheers stopped.

“Looks like you’re up,” the teacher clapped him hard on the back and Connor nearly lost his footing, “See you later you plastic asshole.”

Before Connor knew what was going on, he was shoved through the door and in to the hall. Through the closing double doors, Connor could hear loud and clear professor Anderson talking to himself.

“Plastic asshole. Heh. You still got it Hank. You still got it.”

Straightening his tie and dusting off his cloak, Connor walked with dignity to the centre of the room. There was the occasional hushed whisper but he could barely hear even snippets of the conversations. Taking deep breaths, Connor channelled all of his pureblood training and remained poised and confident.

The walk was relatively quick and soon Connor arrived at the stool. The room lowered in volume, out of curiosity or respect Connor did not care. The teacher conducting the ceremony was the kind faced woman he saw before in the waiting room. She gave him a smile and said his name.

“Connor Stern," she then turned to face the students, "Now as the headmaster has told you previously, we have a new student joining the ranks of fourth year students. I hope you all make him feel welcomed, especially those who'll be his eventual house mates.”

 Sitting down, Connor could feel a bead of sweat drop down his back, running along the spine. Withholding a shiver, Connor emptied his mind.

Deep breaths.

With a great force of will, Connor recalled only certain memories and traits. Ambition. Cunning. Resourcefulness.

Ambition. Cunning. Resourcefulness.

“Cute.”

Connor’s concentration wavered at the voice that pierced deep in to his subconscious.

“Impressive Occlumency, especially for one so young. But I’ve been reading minds long before your ancestors had even picked up a wand. Let’s see what you were so desperate to hide boy!”

At first it felt like nothing happened, just the soft sound of a singular water drop. Then, pain. Excruciating pain that he had never felt before. A pain that lanced to his very core; his soul. The Sorting Hat was not kind in its quest, pervading every memory. The good memories, the bad memories; the Hat did not discriminate. Every burn, every shock, every failed spell.

 He _relived_ it all.

After what felt like hours, but realistically was a few short seconds, the pain subsided and Connor greedily gulped in the stale air of the Great Hall. He had been prepared for some backlash, trained for it. But he did not expect this and he doubted Amanda had either. She had warned him the Hat was a prideful entity, an entity that did not take kindly to those who attempted to deceive it. Still he had tried because that was what he was told to do.

“I know your true colours Connor,” the Hat’s voice was no longer prideful, and instead it was now a soft cadence, sympathetic almost, “but just this once, I’ll make exceptions. You’d excel in both houses, despite the one being a far better fit.”

In Connor’s mind, the flashes of blue and bronze that the Hat left in its wake faded and the majestic caws died in the breeze.

“Slytherin!”

Not waiting for the teacher, Connor removed the Sorting Hat and placed it on the stool respectfully. Gracefully accepting the loud applause from the Slytherin table (with muted applause from the other three tables) Connor made his way to a spot made vacant at the end of the table.

Shrugging off overly excited pats on the back, Connor looked up from his seat and locked eyes with the only person he could call friend in this castle. But when he saw her face, Connor wished he hadn’t. The sheer _hurt_ in her eyes cut deep, but paled in comparison to the subtle anger he could see glistening in the candlelight.

END.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Umm yeah, hope you enjoyed. I tend to not write author's notes but I will do so for just this chapter. It's been in the works for awhile but I only just started writing it proper the past few weeks. I'm hoping to make this a fairly big project and I'm also hoping I'll stick with it till the end. As for starting in 4th year, it was purely because I didn't feel confident in writing childlike perspectives (and also I couldn't be bothered doing character introductions for everyone). Hoping to do weekly/bi-weekly updates it all depends how busy my work gets. I'm planning on 3 arcs (set in yearly increments e.g. arc1=fourth year, arc2=fifth year...) with an overarching plot that sorta ties it all in. But thats many moons in the future. In any case I've waffled long enough, once again hope you enjoyed and I'll crawl back in to my cave and start writing.


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